


Alter the Ending

by unknowableroom_archivist



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Gen, Marauders' Era
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-12-11
Updated: 2011-12-11
Packaged: 2019-01-19 07:10:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,215
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12405543
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/unknowableroom_archivist/pseuds/unknowableroom_archivist
Summary: A tale of the Marauders, set in the summer of 1977 and their years after Hogwarts.  Inspired by Dashboard Confessional's album "Alter the Ending."





	Alter the Ending

**Author's Note:**

> Note from ChristyCorr, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [Unknowable Room](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Unknowable_Room), a Harry Potter archive active from 2005-2016. To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project after May 2017. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [Unknowable Room collection profile](http://www.archiveofourown.org/collections/unknowableroom).

 

_A/N:  This story is based on the Dashboard Confessional album Alter the Ending, with each chapter based on a different song.  Ever since the album was released in November 2009, the songs have reminded me of the Marauders and how their lives must have been.  The story will be told in two parts, the first during the summer of 1977 and the second post-Hogwarts.  Comments/concrit are greatly appreciated!_

_**Disclaimer:  All characters are the property of J.K. Rowling et al.  Lyrics and chapter titles belong to Dashboard Confessional.** _

\------------------------------------------------------------

**Part 1: Our Last Summer as Children**

**Chapter 1: Get Me Right**

 

_I make my slow way home, limping on broken bones_

_Out of the thickest pine, across the county line_

_Onto your wooden stair, I know you can repair_

_I know you’ve seen the light, I know you’ll get me right_

 

I woke up in the fetal position on a bed of pine needles. Before even opening my eyes, I mentally checked every part of my body. At first I felt only pain, but gradually I could distinguish two arms _(one complete with bite marks)_ , two legs _(one with a long gash across the calf, the other with a bruised knee)_ , ten fingers _(remarkably unscathed)_ , ten toes _(two broken)_. I tried to straighten my limbs and just barely choked back a scream, instead emitting a high-pitched canine whine from the back of my throat. Slowly and carefully, I pushed myself up to hands and knees. After several minutes, I was finally sitting with my back and head resting against the trunk of a large tree.

 

Thirteen years of lunar insanity. Thirteen full moons each year. And somehow, I was still surprised by my injuries each month. I continued to inspect myself for new injuries, breathing slowly through my nose as I ran my hands along my ribs. My left side was tender, skin stained with a large bruise that was still spreading tendrils of purple and blue around my torso. I counted three broken ribs on my right side. A downed branch, about one and a half meters long, lay on the ground beside me. I used it to slowly pull myself upright then leaned my weight on it, gasping for breath once more. The first full moon of the summer was always the worst. Bracing myself for the long walk home, I adjusted my grip on the branch and started down the beaten dirt path.

 

My father had built the enclosure in the woods behind out house in the summer of 1965; I was five years old. It was about one kilometer squared, decent enough space to roam. The sides of the fence were a little over four meters tall and a set of three locks on the gate served to keep me secured inside until I resumed my human form.

 

When I was younger, my father would spend the entire night on the other side of the door, throwing pieces of meat through a small trap door to keep me from injuring myself. I got older, started to explore, and he would come get in in the morning. At sixteen years of age, I had become too tall, too heavy for my aging father to support for the walk home. I couldn’t stand the pity and shame in his eyes upon seeing my injuries, so I told him that he could stay home with Mum and devised a new plan with my friends.

 

It took almost an hour to get to the gate from the center of the enclosure. Another twenty minutes and I was at the edge of the woods, finally within sight of the house. The bright midday sunlight was nauseating and I toppled forward. I saw James running toward me, followed closely by Sirius while Peter jogged slightly behind. I closed my eyes and felt myself being carefully lifted to my feet. There was a slight clinking sound of glass against glass before a vial of cool liquid was held to my lips. I swallowed gratefully before slipping into a drugged slumber.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

When I woke hours later, the sun had begun its slow descent behind the trees. From my spot on the cushioned swing on the back porch, I was able to see the bats as they crossed the sky. The swing creaked beneath me as I shifted into a sitting position. James and Peter looked up from their game of chess and Sirius put down his bottle of butterbeer before moving in my direction.

 

“Oh good, Moony, you’re up. We were wondering when you’d rejoin the land of the living.”  He barked out a laugh before rearranging his face into a more serious expression. “How’s your head? It looked like you hit it pretty hard when you fell earlier.”

 

“It’s fine, really,” I said as he grabbed my head between his hands. He turned it one way then the other, pushed my hair back from my forehead, and nodded. “Nice work, Pete.” Peter smiled at the rare compliment before speaking.

 

“Sorry to have knocked you out for so long. I gave you a blood replenisher, pain reliever, and a sleeping draught before healing your cuts and bruises. Had to fix a few ribs and a bone in your right foot. Seems like everything healed up okay, but you might want to take it easy for a couple of days.” Pete smiled again before returning to his game with James.  He planned to become a Healer after we finished Hogwarts; if the patch-up jobs he'd done on me for the past two years were any indication, I had no doubt that he would be at the top of his training class.

 

“We wanted to bring you inside, but your mother was changing the linens when we got here and we didn't want to ruin her hard work,” James shrugged one shoulder apologetically.

 

“What James is trying to say is that you're filthy and you smell terrible. Go clean yourself,” Sirius said.

 

“So nice of you to make fun of a man in his own home. Glad to see those obnoxious pureblood notions of propriety and respect are finally wearing off.” I breathed in through my nose and smelled dirt and sweat and wild animal. “On second thought, you make a good point. I think I'll do just that.”

 

“Your mum made pot roast,” Sirius called out as I entered the house. I waved in acknowledgment and closed the door behind me. I deposited my trousers, trainers, and jumper in a basket near the door then proceeded to the washroom, clad in an undershirt and briefs. The water in the shower was blissfully hot and I let it run over me for a moment before lathering up with a bar of soap.

 

Fifteen minutes later, dressed in a crisp clean shirt and ironed trousers, I entered the kitchen and grabbed the plate of food that my mother had warmed for me while I showered. As I retrieved a fork from a nearby drawer, my father stepped into the kitchen.

 

“Your mother and I are headed to bed. Your friends can stay over if they'd like, but try not to stay up too late.”

 

“Okay Dad. Tell Mum thanks for me, please.” He patted my shoulder and headed for the corridor, then turned back to me.

 

“You're very lucky, you know. They're good friends.” He locked eyes with me a moment longer, sharing an unspoken understanding, and then was gone.

 

“Now _there's_ the Moony we know! Well dome, Remus, you almost look like yourself again.” James smiled.

 

“You smell like yourself again, too. Not that it's much of an improvement...” I tossed a butterbeer cap at Sirius's head and he ducked, laughing. I sat down on the porch steps and took a few mouthfuls of food as my friends resettled.

 

“I'm glad you were all here, mates – I don't know that I'd have made it back to the house without you.”

 

“Please, Remus, you know that we'd all expect you to do the same for us if the tables were turned. Besides, we've seen you out of worse...then again, we usually had something to do with those injuries.” Peter looked at James, who nodded, and Sirius, who tilted his head to the side and shrugged.

 

“Well, in any case, I'm glad you're up, because I have news to share.”  James puffed out his chest and glanced around expectantly. “This is important news, something you'll all want to hear.” Again, only silence. James's chest deflated as he pleading looked at us. “Well?  Isn't anyone going to ask what it is?”

 

“This wouldn't have to do with a certain redhead, would it?” I asked.  Peter snorted and Sirius smirked.

 

“Very funny, Remus,” James rolled his eyes and folded his arms over his chest. “Any other takers?”

 

“Well, let us see...you're in love with Lily Evans, you're going to ask Lily Evans on a date, or you managed to hold a conversation with Lily Evans that, although merely consisting of courtesies, contained no hexes, curses, or jinxes, and therefore you know that she is madly in love with you.” It was my turn to snort as Sirius stared at James, one eyebrow raised.

 

“Is that really what you think of me? I'm wounded.” James held his hand to his chest and affected a hurt expression. Sirius hit him with a cushion from a porch rocker, almost knocking him off the railing. We all laughed as he  righted himself and hopped down from his precarious perch.

 

“Well, if this is how you're going to act, I just won't tell you,” he said, a glimmer of mischief in his eyes. “And I'll have you know, this has absolutely nothing to do with the ever-lovely Miss Evans and positively everything to do with the four of us.”

 

“Alright then, tell us,” Sirius replied, interest clearly piqued.

 

“Well then, since you asked...despite us only being two days into summer hols, my parents have become rather frustrated with Sirius and me and the tendency we have for humor, destruction, and getting underfoot.  As a result – and entirely dependent upon good behavior and willingness to live under _very_ agreeable conditions – they have offered to rent a summer cottage for us.”

 

“You're joking!” Peter exclaimed. “Really?”

 

“Of course he's joking,” Sirius remarked. “James, your mum is great and all, but did you _really_ think we'd believe that?”

 

“Actually, yes,” said James, pulling a folded parchment from his pocket.  “This is the deed to a cottage in Folkestone, in Kent. My mother has agreed to let us use it under very slight, very agreeable conditions.”

 

“What are they?” Sirius asked, a skeptical expression on his face.

 

“We have to keep it tidy, have my parents over for dinner every Tuesday, and no girls can stay at the house.”

 

“That's definitely tolerable,” I said around a mouthful of carrot. “I can agree to that and I think my parents will also, as long as I come home for the full moon.”

 

“My mum will say yes too,” Peter said. “Now that Lisa and Jane are married, I think she's gotten rather used to having the house to herself. I constantly feel like I'm getting in her way.” We all turned towards Sirius.

 

“So what say you, Sirius? Coming to the beach, or would you rather spend the summer discussing interior decorating over scones and tea with Mum?”

 

“Of course I'm coming! I'd be an idiot not to.”

 

“Like it's much of a difference from his usual behavior,” Peter whispered to me. I laughed and Sirius glared at us. A yawn escaped from my mouth and James checked his wristwatch.

 

“It's getting late, and you need sleep,” James said, pulling himself to his feet. “I'll have Mum stop by tomorrow to talk to your folks.  If they agree, we can start using the house next week.” We all said goodbye. Peter and Sirius disapparated while James stayed behind.

 

“Remus...are you sure you're okay? You looked rough this morning, worst I've ever seen.” I shrugged; there was no use denying it. Truth was, I'd become rather accustomed to having my mates around during the full moon. My injuries had been been pretty bad that morning and I was still feeling slightly on edge.

 

“Well, you know that, should you change your mind, the offer still stands.  I can't speak for the others, but I'm willing to come here if it'll help you.”

 

“Thank you, James, but really, I'll be okay.” He gave me a searching look and disappeared into the night.

 

I picked up my plate and the empty butterbeer bottles from the porch floor and brought them inside. As I washed up, I thought about James's offer and wondered how I'd found such loyal and trustworthy friends. Once everything was put away, I headed to bed and took the potion my mother had left out for me. As I fell asleep, I hoped that I would be able to make it through the  next full moon without hurting myself or anyone else.

 

_But Jesus, I've fallen, I don't mind the rain if_

_I meet my Maker, I meet my Maker clean_

_But Jesus, the truth is, I struggle so hard to believe_

_I'll meet my Maker, I need my Maker_


End file.
